Forsaken
by Trace1
Summary: It's the end of the world. Literally.


Title:Forsaken (1/1)  
Author: Trace (Ashelhan@aol.com)  
Rating: R *Very* dark-fic.  
Notes:Things inside of // \\ are lyrics. The lyrics themselves are by David Drainman.   
Feedback: You'd better give me some. I gave myself chills writing this, damn it!  
+++++  
  
//I'm over it  
You see I'm falling in the fast abyss  
Clouded by memories of the past  
At last I see\\  
  
Everything was in ruins as far as the eye could see. Destruction ranged from the Hellmouth to as far as civilization existed. Once existed, anyway.  
  
Survivors, what few there were, had nothing. Homes and businesses had been leveled, governments across the world had collapsed, and money was rendered worthless, except as fuel for heat-giving fire.  
  
Of all the Apocalypses ever imagined, this had been the least expected. Countless authors of the horror genre had foretold exactly such an end to the world as it was known, but no one had ever taken the scenarios seriously, including the writers themselves.  
  
//I hear it fading, I can't speak it  
Oh yes you will dig my grave   
You feeling, finding, always whining   
Take my hand now, be alive\\  
  
The end had been something that, once set into motion, was unstoppable, by either side of the perceived 'war'. By the last days, neither force believed in anything but survival. What had started out as fighting for a cause degenerated into a battle for the right to survive.  
  
And all it had taken was one voice to set the entire thing on course. One voice to shake the foundations of every civilized society in existence. One voice to goad humans worldwide into participating in a wholesale slaughter against anything that didn't meet their expectations of what was 'human' and 'natural'.  
  
All it had taken was one vampire, tired of feeding in secret, tired of hiding from the mortal world, to buy a thirty minute spot on a worldwide news station and declare that mankind wasn't alone on their own planet.   
  
He'd stood on camera, his testimony about what he was, and what existed in the darkness, broadcast live to the worldwide population, inciting a war on anything and everything that wasn't human.   
  
A war that made Hitler's dream seem like a fairytale compared with the reality that had come into existance in 2002.   
  
//You see I cannot be forsaken  
Because I'm not the only one  
We walk amongst you feeding, raping  
Must we hide from everyone?\\  
  
And so the world had become a landscape never envisioned this side of Hell, a barren wasteland as devoid of life as the dark side of the moon, populated only by a few straggling demons and perhaps twice as many frightened, disillusioned humans.   
  
Standing on a charred hill in what had once been the town of Sunnydale, a blonde man stared listlessly at the flattened scenery, a broken cigarrette dangling unlit and forgotten from his lips as he hugged his own arms, his black t-shirt tattered and gaping over a muscled chest that was spattered with blood, some of it his own.   
  
Bruised and bloody, Spike sank to the ground to wait for the sunrise, not able to fathom existing in the hellish dimension his once-beloved world had become.  
  
//I'm over it  
Why can't we be together, embrace it?  
Sleeping so long, taking off the mask  
At last I see\\  
  
The bodies of dozens of people and demons alike littered the area, and the stench of death was revolting, nauseating, but the vampire didn't stir. Once sparkling blue eyes had dimmed, and reflected only emptiness. The once-powerful Master vampire had finally been broken by the very world he had liked so much, and had been enslaved to an eternity of nothingness by the charred remains.  
  
//My fear is fading, I can't speak it  
Oh yes you will dig my grave  
You feeling, finding, always whining   
Take my hand now, be alive\\  
  
All because one of his own kind had decided to cause carnage of a different kind. The vampire who had outed all of demonic life had been the first to die, of course. Even now, Spike wasn't sure if the traitor-whose name he'd never even learned-had planned the destruction his words had wrought.  
  
Once laughing, happy, oblivious people had turned into witch-hunters overnight, carrying torches and ransacking cemetaries, defiling burial vaults and graves of loved-ones, and burning warehouses to the ground worldwide within hours of the vampire's broadcast.  
  
Less than twelve hours later, they had turned against their own; defaming their neighbors and babysitters, and elderly men and women who were eccentric, on supicions that they were in fact demons of some sort.  
  
Witches, of course, were targeted almost immediately, their names helpfully provided by colleges, meeting centres and other public establishments who suddenly believed the word 'Wicca' to be evidence of evil, demonic life in those masquerading as human.  
  
//You see I cannot be forsaken  
Because I'm not the only one  
We walk amongst you feeding, raping  
Must we hide from everyone?\\  
  
Husbands slew argumentative wives, mothers slaughtered temperamental children, and once-trusted and well-liked neighbors were murdered down to babies in cribs and foeteses in their mothers' wombs.   
  
Fear and hatred ran rampant, until finally, three days after the vampire had shattered the precarious balance of all earth-bound lifeforms, every country with nuclear or biological warheads deployed them at once, reducing the world to the burnt, seared wasteland that it had become.  
  
//You see I cannot be forsaken  
Because I'm not the only one  
We walk amongst you feeding, raping  
Must we hide from everyone?\\  
  
Spike had stood helplessly by, restrained by his Sire, Angel, as a mob dragged Willow, Tara, Dawn, and Buffy away to be executed, screaming his throat raw as he watched his ties to the world shattered.   
  
Willow and Tara had been burnt at the stake, screaming piteously and reaching for each other in their last moments; flesh and bone sizzling and popping in the heat, the smell of charred flesh and burning hair making the two witches' killers gag and retch even as they cheered their victory.  
  
Buffy and Dawn had held each other close, terror obvious in their eyes as they watched their friends savagely killed, knowing that they were next.  
  
When the mob had tried to wrench Dawn away from Buffy, she fought like she was possessed, outing herself as inhuman in a vain effort to save her sister's life.   
  
As he watched Buffy fall, her intestines spilling from her abdomen, Spike went silent and still, all light fading from his eyes. He didn't even flinch as the Slayer's sister, who he had loved like she was his own child, writhed in agony, a knife protruding from her chest, her last breath shuddering from her lips with a wet gurgle.  
  
//Everyone.  
Everyone.\\  
  
Spike didn't move as Angel tried to retrieve the corpses of their loved ones, didn't notice as a straggler from the group of human hunters tackled his Sire from behind and shoved a piece of wood through his heart and the once-mighty Angelus crumbled to ashes.  
  
On his knees, Spike raised his eyes to the heavens as the first light of pre-dawn-no longer bluish, but an angry, swirling orange-purple, appeared, and opened his arms wide to greet the sun, a look of peace on his face as he caught fire and disentigrated, the bodies of those he loved gently covered with ash as the blonde vampire ceased to exist.   
  
-Fin.  
  
*I'd better get some kick-ass feedback for writing something so macabre, or I will *so* stop writing for you ingrates.Heh. 


End file.
